


coffee and snow

by chxrrycake



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, barista bookshop owner rey, movie director extraordinaire ben solo, tags will be added as i keep writing hehe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chxrrycake/pseuds/chxrrycake
Summary: Ben's struggling with his latest movie (thanks for nothing, Hux) when he finds Rey, her books and the ex-Starbucks she owns.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

There was no doubt in Ben’s mind about it - Armitage Hux had cut the perfect number of corners to earn the title of Executive Producer/Lazy Dolt next to his name when the credits of _Intergalactica IX_ rolled. There had to have been a special kind of emptiness inside his pasty-skinned head for Hux to overlook a gaping plot hole until seven weeks into filming the movie, not to mention the very real possibility of every other crew member also lacking a brain. How was it actually possible for a team of hundreds to forget that the villain of their film was killed off two whole movies ago? Ben tilted his head back to stare at the BMW’s grey ceiling, bouncing a leg. Hux’s nasally voice saying that there was an ‘issue in the script’ this morning had made him want to wrap one hand around the man’s skinny chicken-neck and choke him until he turned blue. It had been 14 hours since then, and the feeling had not faded any less.

God, he was going to have to halt the whole production just because Hux had had the brilliant idea of resurrecting a dead man, wasn’t he? Great. 

His phone buzzed twice in his hands, lighting up the car. Ben let his head fall forward to check it; nothing but two texts from Hux. The man was relentless, truly, and always in the worst possible way. He cleared his throat and leant forward in his seat. “Mitaka. Mind dropping me at the Starbucks before my apartment? I need an coffee. And a walk in the cold air.” Caffeine this late at night certainly couldn’t be that good for him; it was something his mother would have chided teenage Ben and his elephant ears for. He flicked off his concerns with a little irritation - that would have been a good 8 years back, and it wasn’t as if he was going to get much sleep anyway, what with bumbling Hux and bumbling Thanisson and bumbling Ushar and the rest of them. The car stopped and Ben stepped out into the snow, knees cracking in protest at being folded for so long. “You want me to wait around?” he heard Mitaka ask from the driver’s seat. 

“No, no, drop my luggage at the apartment and then go get some rest. It’s bad enough that this schedule has you driving me to the the studio again in less than six hours. Night.”

He dug his phone out of his coat pocket - Hux loved to flood him with messages until Ben responded, which was really a problem best nipped in the bud. He pushed open the door to Starbucks, eyes still fixated on his phone as a little bell rang through the quiet somewhere above his head. It was a comforting warm inside the shop. “Grande Long Black for Ben, thank you,” he murmured, brow furrowed at his phone. What on earth had Hux meant by _Lightning not interesting enough, we need to give K &K more powers_? Someone cleared her throat in front of him, and Ben’s eyes flicked up to the other side of the counter. A girl, some 8 inches shorter than him, had crossed her arms and was squinting peevishly up at him. “This isn’t a Starbucks,” she said, the ‘ar’ of Starbucks curiously drawn out and non-rhotic, “Used to be. It moved down a few blocks if you’re set on that kind of commercial coffee.” Ben pinched the bridge of his nose, shoving his phone into his pocket (Hux could suck it). 

“Sorry. Just a large long black is fine, then. To go.”

“It’s not a little too late to be drinking coffee? At,” she glanced at the wall behind him, “9:57 p.m.?” All the same, she busied herself pouring grounds into the Breville behind her.

His lips pursed of their own accord. “It’s not a little too late to be running a coffee shop? Not that I’m ungrateful. Long night, thanks to my clown of a coworker.” With any luck, Ben had managed to make himself sound like a run-of-the-mill office drone. This barista and her strange hours didn’t need to know the ins and outs of his moviemaking at 10 on a Tuesday night. 

“I’m open until I want to call it a day. Self-employed, you know? It’s also not _just_ a coffee shop,” she said, wiping down the machine, “We sell books, too. I’m not sure you noticed that, though, given that you couldn’t tell this and a Starbucks apart. Every single classic and then some.” 

“Really? Every classic?” Ben mumbled, letting his eyes roam around the place. It looked a lot smaller than when it was Starbucks, to be sure - rows and rows of bookshelves were packed in behind a general setup of the counter and a couple of empty tables. The floor had been redone, too, in reclaimed boards that creaked when he set a foot forward. “Every classic,” the girl’s voice claimed proudly, snapping him out of his inspection. “Your coffee’s done.” 

“Set it down on the counter there for a minute. I want to look around,” he said, stepping past the tables to peer at the bookshelves. “You have Fahrenheit 451, then.” The barista-bookshop owner’s footsteps pattered for a bit and came to a stop beside him. 

“I wish he’d called it Celsius 233, but yes.”

“1984?” 

She nodded.

“Brave New World?”

“You’re very into this dystopian future thing, aren’t you? We have that too.”

“The Bell Jar?”

The girl sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Drat. Not that one.”

“So not every classic, then.” In his pocket, his phone vibrated with what could only be the first of many texts from Hux. He almost longed to throw some kind of tantrum that culminated in smashing the thing on the floor of this shop - instead, he shut his eyes tight and wished for one ginger-haired dweeb to drop dead. His pocket buzzed again as if to mock him. “Sorry,” he managed to say through a chest tightening in exasperation, “Work calls.” He adjusted his coat and made his way back over to the counter, picking up the coffee and taking a sip. The barista, who had settled onto a stool behind her counter, met his widening eyes. “Good?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Ben could only nod and drink more, the rich warmth settling pleasantly around his mouth and erasing all thoughts of work from his mind. He lowered the cup and sighed in content, tongue flicking at the edge of his lip to catch a stray drop of coffee. 

“I really think this might be the best coffee I’ve ever had,” he whispered reverently. 

The barista snorted quietly, her head tilting back. “If you drink Starbucks that much, I’m not surprised.”

The corner of Ben’s mouth cracked into a smile. “So you’re open until whenever, right?” At her nod, he continued, “Good. I think this is my new favourite place.” He opened the door, the winter air no match for the cup’s warmth. The girl’s laughter mingled with the chime of the bell above his head. 

“In that case, I look forward to seeing you again, Ben.”

“And I you,” he paused, unsure of what to call her. 

“Rey,” she finished, smiling softly at him. 

“Rey,” he said, the name falling gently off his tongue. “Goodnight, Rey.” With that, he shut the door behind him and stepped out into the cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben had known exactly where it was. The paperback had been sitting in the back of his bookshelf ever since he’d taken up residence in this apartment 3 years back, nestled behind rows of Shakespeare and Austen. He’d tucked it safely in his Herschel this morning (a Christmas gift from his father, who had mumbled something about all good directors needing a messenger bag), amongst a bottle of lemon water, a pencil case and his laptop. Ben said his thank-yous to Mitaka and slid out of the car to face Rey’s shop, which glowed with a warm light that seemed to melt the snowflakes off his coat. Yesterday’s Hux-fiasco had made it impossible for him to notice the wooden sign that hung next to the doorway and would have just grazed his hair had it been swinging. Perhaps he was too tall for the shop. Today, Ben paused to examine the lettering, which proclaimed the shop to be the _New Beginnings Bookstore and Cafe_. Cute.

He pushed the door open, the bell jangling above his head again. Rey’s eyes snapped up from the paperback in her hands (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire), her face creasing into a warm grin at his appearance. “Ben!” she laughed, “Back for more coffee?” The empty shop made her sudden happiness all the more infectious, and he felt his ears and apples of his cheeks thaw as he smiled back.

“Of course. I have something for you, by the way.” 

Rey cocked her head to the side and hummed, flicking the Breville on. “And what might that be?”

“Well,” Ben started, rootling through the bag at his hip, “You mentioned having _every_ classic yesterday, and I proved you wrong, so I thought the issue needed to be rectified.” He slid a hardcover book out of his bag and onto the counter. Rey slotted a metal something into the machine and turned around, mouth falling open in surprise. 

“The Bell Jar!” 

Ben nodded, one hand coming up to rub the nape of his neck. “I had a copy lying around and I haven’t read it since, what, junior year? I thought you might like it.” Rey broke into a toothy beam and cradled the book to her chest. 

“Well, you were right. Really, I haven’t found a copy since starting the bookshop. How much, and is this coffee to go or to stay?”

His eyebrows shot up as if they had a mind of their own. “As in you want to pay me for it?”

Rey had swiveled to face the coffee machine again. “Of course. How much, and to go or to stay?” 

Ben shook his head feverently, not caring that she couldn’t see him doing so. “No! No way. I’m not selling this book to you. It’s a gift. To stay, if you don’t mind.” 

She turned around, placing the cup and saucer on the counter. “Alright, then.” Ben’s credit card was halfway to the reader to pay when Rey placed her hand over the scanner. He frowned and flicked his eyes up to her smiling like a pixie. “Rey,” he started, “I need to pay for my coffee.” 

She laughed, pulling her mouth down and putting on a fake-deep voice. “As in you want to pay me for it?”

Ben huffed. “I don’t sound like that at all. Yes, I want to pay you for - oh my god, I didn’t even pay you for yesterday’s coffee either! I’m so sorry, that’s literally _robbery_ , how much are th-” 

“Ben,” she said firmly, cutting him off, “Number one, you do sound like that. I’m always fantastic at impressions. Number two, it’s the least I can do after you gave me a book I’ve been searching for since I was 20. You know how long that is? Three whole years. Let me at least give you two coffees on the house to say thanks.” She set her mouth in a line and glared up at Ben through her lashes - he was reminded of an angry cat he’d seen on Instagram - until his hands took the cup from hers, at which point she broke into a smile that made her eyes shine. Rey seemed to smile a lot, really, and Ben couldn’t remember the last time he encountered someone so relentlessly happy. 

She flicked a hand to shoo him towards a squat table and equally squat velvet ottoman before proceeding to flutter around behind the counter. He parked the coffee on the table and himself on the ottoman. With his knees 10 inches below his chin, Ben was more sure than ever that this coffee shop was _not_ built for people of his height. Rey approached him, two small plates piled with scraps of cakes and pastries balanced on each arm. He made to get up and help her, but she shook her head and slid the dishes onto the table before him. “On the house, don’t worry. I don’t think anyone else is coming in at this hour, and these cakes need to go somewhere. Red velvet, custard danish, strawberry cake, mini blueberry muffin, chocolate croissant, lemon pound cake,” she pointed at the plates at a dizzying speed, “Enjoy it!” 

She’d started making her way back to the counter when he cleared his throat. “Rey. I’m not trying to be ungrateful, because god knows I needed these, but I’m a little allergic to blueberries. This is also… well, a lot of sugar to eat at 9pm all by myself.” Her head whipped around and she skittered over to him, swiping the offending muffin and its plate off the table. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you anaphylactic? Did you come into contact with it? I’m sorry, I should have checked in with you, do you need me to call an ambulance? I-” 

Her panicky, round eyes were almost adorable. She danced back and forth, dumping the plate on the counter before scrubbing her hands under the sink with a frantic insanity. Ben ducked his head and chuckled silently, dark hair falling forward to curtain his face. “Ben!” she squeaked, rushing to his side, “Are you okay? Are you having a reaction? Do you have an Epipen, oh my _god_!” He couldn’t help but double over further with laughter, the sound echoing in the empty shop. Rey’s fussing abruptly cut off, and Ben was left cracking up in total silence. 

It was another 30 seconds before his giggles petered out, leaving him with aching cheeks and tears on his eyelashes. Rey stared at him incredulously. “So you really just left me to worry about you because I thought you were going to die in front of me?” she said, her tone flat. Ben smiled sheepishly. 

“Ben!” Rey whined.

“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he protested, holding his hands up, “No, blueberries just make my throat a bit scratchy. No need to worry.”

“Oh. Okay. Anything else on those plates you’re allergic to? You won’t die a slow death via _pain au chocolat_?”

“Not that I know of, at least. And I won’t, promise.”

Rey nodded in satisfaction and turned to get behind the counter again. 

“Why don’t you share these with me?,” Ben asked, “If you’re not too busy reading Harry Potter, that is. Pull up a chair.”

She tilted her head to the side (a frequent occurrence, Ben noted). “Really? You don’t mind?” 

“Of course not.”

She dragged a pouf from the next table over and sat opposite him, then pulled two forks from the cutlery holder between them and handed one to Ben. “In that case, bon appetit.” 

They sat in a companionable silence for some amount of time, save for the clinking of their forks against the plate. Ben wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to talk - the cake was busy melting on his tongue and leaving a comforting sweetness in its wake. Rey said something from in front of him a minute later that cut through the fog of lemons and chocolate, and his eyes snapped up to her. Ben blinked once, then twice. He expected to hear her repeat the statement, or follow it up with something that would clue him in; instead, she held his gaze with the intensity of a small dog. 

The muted greens and golds of Rey’s eyes didn’t waver from his. She refused to blink, and Ben had the feeling they’d entered an impromptu staring contest. He did fine, of course, but Rey eyeballed him with a ferocity that forced him to shut his burning eyes after a minute and a half. When he opened them, she was still peering at him. Then she blinked, craned her head forward and asked, “You didn’t hear what I was saying, did you?”

“Okay. You got me. The cakes, I don’t know, put me in some kind of trance.”

Rey snickered. “I _said_ you make really weird noises when you eat.”

“‘Weird noises?’” Ben said, his fingers coming up to form air quotes. “Please don’t tell me I mo-”

“No! No,” she said hurriedly, cutting him off, “Nothing like that. But you, like, made some kind of purring noise when you ate that red velvet cake. It was… well, actually, it wasn’t really a purr. Kind of like…” Rey cleared her throat and made some kind of noise from deep within her chest. It might have been intended as a growl, but the result sounded more like an old car to Ben. 

“I put the cake in my mouth, and then I went,” he imitated her noise, the sound rumbling through the shop, “like that? Seriously, you’re not kidding?” Rey clapped her hands and wiggled from side to side in her seat with glee. 

“It was _exactly_ like that! I was trying so hard not to laugh. Oh! Oh, I know! I still have some pineapple upside-down cake in the fridge at the back! Wait here.” Before he could protest the effects of yet another cake on his sugar intake, she was dashing to a room behind the counter and parading a small cling-wrapped slice back to the table. 

Rey unwrapped the slice with a substantial amount of maniacal energy, thrusting it under his nose. “Eat!” she said, pushing it further towards him, “I need you to know what you sounded like! It was so insane.”

Ben thought the sugar might have had a more severe effect on Rey than they did on him, but he took a bite nonetheless. She retracted her hand in satisfaction and Ben could practically hear her smirk when he groaned in satisfaction, closed his eyes and tipped his head back. The cake was incredible, frankly, and he couldn’t help but be a little disgruntled at its use as a secret weapon. 

Rey’s unabashed laughter, the taste of cake in his mouth and the shop’s toasty heat left a warmth in Ben’s chest that lingered long after he’d gotten into bed.


End file.
